


Psycho

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alfred Hitchcock - Freeform, F/M, Glee version of Psycho, M/M, Mental Illness, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 22:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: Come stay at the Anderson Motel. The charming Blaine Anderson will check you in. Just watch out for his father, or you may be checking out without your head. Psycho, reworked into Glee verse. One-shot.





	Psycho

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a project I've been working on for a while and I have finally completed it. This is definitely the longest one-shot I've ever written. I've taken some creative liberties of course, and I've fine tuned it to fit the Glee verse, but a lot of it follows the original 1960 Alfred Hitchcock film. I did tweak one of the scenes to follow what actually happened in the book, as it was never done that way in any of the film adaptations.
> 
> I've worked really hard on this and it is not for the faint of heart, so proceed with caution. If you're not familiar with Psycho, you may want to look it up on youtube. I found the original film on there.
> 
> I hope you do enjoy this! Comments and kudos make me smile!

The first thing he notices when he comes back to himself, is the feel of the cool hard wood in his hands. His head slowly turns, and he sees it. The thick dark substance still dripping down the blade. The shock of silver metal is cast beneath the moonlight shining through the window and it is then that he realizes the room is dark. When had the light been switched off?

A lump begins to form in his throat and he forces himself to swallow it. Eyes fall down from the blade to the body on the bed. The body with its head split open and the blood splattering the pillow and the headboard. So matted is the hair that the color is indistinguishable.

“Father?” he gets out. And his hands begin to shake, dropping the offending weapon to the floor as his knees give way and his person follows suit. His hands cover his face and outcries pour from his lips.

Father is dead. Father is dead, and it is all his fault. It has to be all his fault. He is the only one in the house other than father.

His hands fall from his face and his eyes flicker to the window. He can barely make out the roof of the motel, just down the hill from the house. There are no guests on this night. And even if there were, the house was off limits to them, so it wasn’t like someone came in, committed the act, and left him with the weapon in his hands. His blacked-out state would not fill his mind with what actually happened. Not yet. But this has happened enough before now that he knows. He knows what he has done.

Father is dead, and it is all his fault.

“No Blaine,” says a voice and he turns his head to the right. Father is standing there with his hands clasped in front of him.

“No?” he questions.

“You did not kill me,” father says, looking right at him and he feels a chill travel up his spine. “I killed me,” father adds, and he looks at him confused. That isn’t right. Father would never kill himself. “I did it Blaine. It has always been me. I killed your mother.”

Thunder suddenly cracks beyond the window and he jerks his head to peer outside as the approaching storm begins to fall. Father is suddenly gone. And he is alone. He is alone. For now.

But he knows a truth now. It is father’s fault mother is dead. Father is the one who brought them to that point and now, father has committed suicide. He looks to the ax, still lying on the floor and knows what he must do. He must dispose of the evidence. But father…he cannot part from father.

Carefully, he stands and begins to roll the body in the comforter on the bed. He will make him comfortable in the basement.

“The basement, really Blaine?” The words leave his own mouth, but they are not him. They are father. Father is still with him, even now, in these most crucial moments.

“I must keep you father,” he says, his own mind taking over his very being. “I must keep you, but no one must find you. No one must know you’re dead.”

Silence befalls the room as he works, picking up the wrapped body and moving to leave the room, the wheels in his head now turning. He wonders how he will dispose of the ax.

“Throw it in the lake,” father says.

“The lake. The lake. The lake.” He continues to repeat the two words all the way down to the basement and by the time he is sitting in his car with the ax beside him, wrapped in a sheet, he can clearly envision the weapon falling into the water and sinking to the bottom.

It will be another one. Another murder he has gotten away with. But he didn’t do it.

“Father is dead. He killed himself,” he says aloud as thunder cracks again and the only other sound he can hear, are the wheels crunching on the gravel of the road. 

The rain starts to fall.

* * *

 

“You haven’t eaten your lunch.”

Rachel Berry turns to stare at the bedside table where her salad and water still sit and shrugs, wrapping her arms tighter around her companion’s neck. “I had something better than food,” she says.

Finn Hudson only smiles at her as they roll around on the bed, re-entangling themselves after a heated hour, though Rachel ends up pushing him away and he frowns at her.

“I’m going to be late,” she says, knowing that she needs to get back to the theater. Rehearsal can’t go on without its star. Finn frowns again.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says, reluctantly pulling himself off the bed and moving to stand, grabbing his shirt. “Because it means I have to leave. It means I have to go back to…her.”

It is Rachel’s turn to frown and she turns to stare at him as she begins to put herself back together. “If she’s your ex-wife, why do you still live with her?” she asks. Her words are met with a long silence from Finn as he makes his way toward the window, debating whether to button his button up or not and deciding to forego it.

Finn braces his hands against the window frame as he stares out of the glass at the bustling of New York City below them. His fingers flex in an attempt to grasp at the flat frame, as though he is looking for something to cling on to. In his mind, he is scrabbling for the right words to say. But Finn has never been good at words. Not speaking anyway. Rachel has tried to convince him to start a band, feeling singing would be good for him and since he has never wanted to work on Broadway as a star in a show, a band might be the best way to go. But Quinn – his ex-wife – would never hear of it, even now that the two of them are divorced. Or so he has told Rachel.

“Grease monkey,” Rachel says, pulling the towel that Finn has forgotten is hanging out of his back pocket. Even now, when he’s nowhere near the shop, he still walks around with a towel in his back pocket.

“Force of habit,” he replies, grateful for a change of subject, knowing that if he can keep Rachel’s mind off wanting to know why he is still living with Quinn, things will transpire much more smoothly.

She sighs as she pulls on her leg warmers, her brunette locks falling smoothly over her shoulders, one bare from the dance rehearsal shirt she is wearing. “I would move out there for you, you know. Give up being a star on Broadway and just move right back to Lima,” she says.

He turns from the window to finally stare at her. “You hate Lima Rach. And you need to be on a big stage, not community theater,” he says. “Besides, you can’t live with me. Not now.” He shakes his head.

“Why not? We can get an apartment together and then maybe I can, take over Glee Club,” she says, not hesitating in her words. Finn can feel in his heart that she must truly want to spend her life with him. Nothing means more to Rachel than her job. Nothing means more to her than living her dream right here in New York, alongside her best friend, who happens to be Finn’s stepbrother Kurt.

“Now’s not a good time Rachel. I…owe people some money.” Finn says. Her eyes go wide and round as saucers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, genuine concern, a rarity for her, lacing her voice and she abandons her shoes to hurry over to him, once more wrapping her hands around his neck.

Finn knows he’s put himself in a tough spot now with admitting it to her. “Because you don’t need to be worrying about that. Or me. You need to be here, in New York, on that Broadway stage,” he says.

Rachel wants to ask him how much money it is that he owes but she can tell that it must be a lot, given that he wanted to keep it from her. She knows what she is about to say is going to be drastic but maybe, just maybe it will convince him that she really is in this for the long hull. There has never been another reason for Rachel to want to abandon her life long dream and actually live a quiet life instead. But that’s what she wants. And she wants it with Finn. Kurt knows. Kurt is the only one who knows. Mercedes would know too, if she hadn’t moved to Hollywood to be a famous recording artist. They don’t keep much in touch. Though Kurt seems to stay in touch with her. Rachel gets her news from him.

“Marry me,” she finally says. Finn stares at her. He grabs his coat and his duffle, and she knows he’s about to leave.

“Go back to the theater Rachel,” he says, choosing not to grace her request with any kind of acknowledgeable response. Before she can say another word, Finn is out the door, heading for the airport no doubt. 

Rachel lets a sigh leave her lips and she puts the finishing touches of her outfit back on, grabbing her water bottle and following him out of the hotel room. She’s late.

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, she bustles back into the theater, where passing through the costume area, she finds Kurt with pins in his mouth. He glances at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Is he back? Has he been asking about me?” Rachel gets out frantically. Her best friend rolls his piercing blue-green-grey eyes, perhaps one of his most striking features. He gives his head the shortest of shakes, though Rachel knows it is of the disapproving kind and she wonders again, how the hell he can move his head all around and not a strand of his perfect coif ever falls out of place. She pushes the thought from her head. “Well?”

“Lucky for you,” Kurt says through his mouthful of pins. He pauses to remove one, using it to pin the hem on the dress he is working on before continuing, shifting his remaining pins to speak around them better. “He’s still on lunch with that new promotional tycoon.” He returns and keeps his eyes to his work. Being behind the scenes had not been Kurt’s initial goal but working in the costume department will suffice for now. Until they invent a lead role that is absolutely perfect for him.

Rachel moves past him to the props table and sets her bag down, folding her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe that guy wants to pay an arm and a leg just for ad space in the program and in our theater,” she says. Kurt shrugs his shoulders and kneels on the floor.

“People scramble for excellent ad space Rachel,” he says. “Critics are already saying this show’s going to be a hit. It is starring you after all,” he continues. Rachel cringes.

Perhaps the hardest part about being a big Broadway star is the fact that everyone relies on you to continuously make your shows spectacular. Rachel knows she was a big breakout star with her role in Funny Girl. Though some of the stunts she pulled when she was working on that show nearly squashed her career before it really had a chance to get started. She knows she has to be careful now.

Maybe leaving the big stage isn’t the brightest idea right now.

But then a thought occurs to her as she replays the end of her conversation with Finn in her mind. “How much is he planning to pay for the ad space?” she asks Kurt.

The pale man stands from his kneeling position and makes his way toward her, dropping the leftover pins into a small bowl he has sitting on the props table. “I’m not entirely sure,” he says. “Not of the official figure anyway,” he adds.

“But you have an estimate?” she asks, raising her eyebrows in anticipation.

Kurt lets out a sigh. “Several thousand I’ve heard,” he tells her, trying to sound nonchalant. He knows she’s up to something, but he also knows now is not the time to start questioning her.

Rachel is quiet, and he can see by the expression on her face that she is contemplating something.

“Don’t do anything stupid Rachel,” he says, and she snaps out of her contemplating state.

“Stupid? Me?” she says. “Don’t be silly Kurt. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything stupid.” She turns her head away, biting her lip because yes, yes, she may just be considering doing something stupid.

Kurt opens his mouth to protest because he knows her too well, when the stage door flies open and in walks the director, the tycoon is with him, chatting the man’s ear off and Rachel quickly puts on her game face, slapping on her professional smile for the man and making herself presentable. Kurt rolls his eyes at her.

“Good afternoon sir!” Rachel says in that ever chipper way of hers. The director eyes her for a moment before he glances at Kurt with a questioning expression. Kurt throws his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t look at me. You know Rachel,” he says before he excuses himself and returns to his work on the costumes. He busies himself, but Rachel knows him well enough to know that he is going to be keeping an ear open for the conversation that’s about to take place.

The director clears his throat. “Rachel, this is Mr. Walters. He is looking to sign an official contract. He’s giving the theater a donation of one hundred grand in exchange for top ad space.” Rachel is immediately glad that she’s such a good actress. The sum of one hundred grand is more than enough for the plot that she has brewing in her head.

“Oh!” she says. “That’s absolutely fantastic Mr. Walters, thank you!” she goes on.

The director claps the man on the shoulder and turns to look at him. “I’ll go and draw up that contract,” he says and the two of them watch him make his way out of the costuming department, heading for his office.

“So, you like the big bucks, do you?” Rachel whips her head around to stare at the middle-aged man.

“Excuse me?” she asks. Out of the corner of her eye, she can just see Kurt tense up and she’s sure that he knows as well as she does just what’s coming her way. She swallows, knowing that if she is going to pull this off, she has to leave the man satisfied, whatever it is he wants.

Mr. Walters leans in closer to her and she can smell the whisky on his breath. The smell nearly makes her sick, but she keeps her game face on, again, praising her acting skills.

“Money. Does it turn you on little miss?” he says. Rachel wants to cringe at the very thought of being called ‘little miss’, but she keeps her face from showing anything. “You know I can bathe you in it. More than this job on the stage can.” He pulls a stack of bills from his pocket and uses his thumb to brush through them, the sound somehow louder than it would be otherwise. “Cold hard cash, plenty of it.” Rachel watches as he brings the stack closer to himself and inhales deeply. People smelling their money is something she has never come to understand.

Out of the corner of her eye she catches Kurt mouthing to her that he thinks the guy is a sick weirdo. Rachel wants to laugh and agree, but she doesn’t want the man suspecting anything, so she keeps her attention on him.

To her horror, Mr. Walters uses the stack of bills to seductively trace up and down her arm. “A pretty little thing like you, would be stunning naked in a bath of cash,” he says, and Rachel can feel the bile building in her throat. What the hell?

Rachel searches for something to say that will get her out of this without making the man terribly angry but she draws a blank. She finds herself saved, however, when the director emerges with the contract.

“So, you’ll be making that check out to the theater, right?” he asks, a pen in his hand as he approaches them. Rachel is glad the man misses the relieved sigh she breathes when he takes his attention away from her and puts it back on her director. Her eyes meet with Kurt’s and he pulls the motion of a hand across the forehead. She gives him a slight nod.

“Actually,” the man says. “I’ll be paying that in cash if you don’t mind.”

The director’s eyes widen just a little bit. “Cash?” he says in surprise. “Well I…don’t really have any place to put it right now.”

“I can take it to the bank for you,” Rachel suddenly says and Kurt stares at her, eyes narrowing just a little bit. He knows that Rachel is definitely up to something now. Otherwise, why would she blurt out that she’d be willing to take one hundred thousand dollars in cash to the bank? He wants to ask her but knows that he can’t, not now with both the director and Mr. Walters in the room. Besides, this isn’t supposed to be any of his business anyway. He’s just in charge of costumes.

“You can?” the director says, surprise written across his face.

Rachel thinks quickly. “Yes, yes, I can. I’m feeling a little lightheaded, so I can probably use the fresh air anyway.”

The director looks at her for a moment. “Are you feeling alright Rachel? I know you feel you have to be here regardless of your health but really, are you alright?”

Rachel knows that she really shouldn’t lie to the director and she sighs, glancing down at the floor. “Not completely sir. I lost track of time over lunch and didn’t have the opportunity to actually eat it.” Behind him, she sees Kurt roll his eyes again and she fights the urge to roll hers back at him. This isn’t his decision. Neither is skipping lunch to see Finn. She knows that Kurt is a little touchy about her relationship with his stepbrother. Not because he’s afraid she’ll hurt Finn but because he knows that she knows that Finn is on thin ice right now, what with the whole situation with Quinn. Kurt’s not even sure if he told Rachel that he and Quinn are in fact still married. And technically, Finn is cheating on her with Rachel. He isn’t sure how Rachel would take that news. Or the fact that they still have not decided whether they are going through with the divorce or not.

Kurt knows that Finn owes money, money he can’t afford to pay back. It’s not like a serious issue, just an overdue loan. But he’s barely making ends meet as it is at the tire shop. Kurt’s father still doesn’t think that Finn’s ready to take it over completely, though Kurt has made it absolutely clear Burt Hummel is not allowed to overwork himself.

“Rachel, you know how important it is to take your meals,” the director says, pulling Kurt from his musing. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Go home after you take the money to the bank,” he decides.

Rachel opens her mouth to protest but Kurt gives his head a sharp shake, telling her she shouldn’t get into it. Normally, she might argue with him, but when she realizes going home early is her window to carry out the plan that’s been brewing in her head, she decides not to fight it.

“Very well sir. I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow and I’ll make sure I eat breakfast first,” she says.

“You mean bright and early on Monday,” the director says.

“We’re not having weekend rehearsals this week?” Rachel asks, keeping the tinge of hope that this plan couldn’t be going better so far, out of her voice.

“I have to go out of town for the weekend. But make sure you’re here bright and early Monday morning.”

If everything goes well, Rachel will be able to carry out her plan and return to the theater on Monday morning as promised. She will have the entire weekend to figure out a cover story for what happened to the money.

Oh yes, Rachel Berry is not planning to put the money in the bank at all. Instead, she intends to take the cash and drive from New York to Ohio to give it to Finn and tell him he has to marry her now. Surely, he would be able to pay off whatever dues he needs to pay off with one hundred thousand dollars. A grin crosses her face at the very thought of her intent to commit a crime. But Rachel has long decided she would do anything to be with Finn and if that means stealing a hundred thousand dollars from her boss and theater, then, so be it.

But as she gathers her things to leave the theater, the rational side of her kicks in. _Are you really going to do this_? She knows how bad this could be for her reputation. If word gets out that she stole money from her theater for a personal matter, it could tarnish her career. 

“Well then,” she says to herself as she waits for the subway, the briefcase of cash in her hand. “I’ll just have to make sure no one realizes I stole it.” With that last thought, she boards the train that has just arrived at the station.

* * *

 

If there is one thing Rachel has always hated, it’s the traffic in New York City. She always forgets why she never drives her car, until she’s in her car and driving. She honks the horn, knowing that she needs to get on the road before any suspicion is called to her. She left work for the bank early enough that the director can make sure the funds are in the account before they close.

“Come on! Some of us have places we need to be!” she shouts out the window. She honks the horn again and the action makes her aware of just why Kurt never wants her to drive if they ever take a car some place. She apparently has road rage issues.

Her eyes cast into the rearview mirror, staring at the briefcase that she has placed on her backseat. In the trunk of her car, she has a suitcase and a heavy overcoat, which she’s failed to notice has a sleeve sticking out, partially covering her tail license plate.

It feels like an hour, but is really only about twenty minutes, when she finally finds herself on the highway. She knows she has a long drive ahead of her, but she also knows that this was the best way to get out of town without being tracked. If she had opted to fly, her credit card could be traced by her director and she couldn’t have that. As it was, she very nearly ran into him in all the city traffic. Luckily, he didn’t see her, nor did he recognize her car. She thanks the silent heavens that she has never driven to the theater. Not like there would have been parking anyway.

After a few moments of being on the highway, she loosens her grip on the steering wheel. Her mind is whirring a mile a minute, berating herself for what she has done. But she can’t help herself. Finn needs money and she needs Finn. She tightens her grip on the wheel again. So what if this could end her career? The man she loves is more important.

She can hear voices in her head, her imagination running wild with what they are saying. Kurt is giving her up. She knows Kurt will know what she did the moment they discover the money is missing. There will be an argument between the director and Mr. Walters. The theater will likely lose the support of the old tycoon. But Rachel pushes these thoughts from her head. She will not let them deter her from what she intends to do. She squashes them out with thoughts of Finn and their future together instead. She’s already won a Tony. She can afford to retire early and go back to a simpler life. She’s willing to do just that for the sake of Finn.

A ringing sound meets her ears and her eyes quickly glance to the center console where she’s stashed her cell phone. She can’t answer it, not while she’s driving. But she can see it’s Kurt who’s calling and she knows if she answers, it won’t be good. She reaches over, hits the decline button, and turns her phone off. That will be better, if only for now. Until after she’s carried out her plan.

She ignores the nagging in her head that Kurt is going to continue to call her nonstop because he knows something is up. It dawns on her that he also knows her car well enough to give authorities a description, so when she spots a used car dealership, she pulls off the highway and into the lot.

“Why hello there ma’am,” says the gentleman who seems to be in charge of the dealership, approaching her while she’s still in her car. “What can I do you for today?” Rachel gets out of her car, opening her mouth to respond when a cop car pulls up. She freezes as the cop gets out of the car and approaches the two them. “Hello there officer,” the dealer says, voice all chipper and Rachel becomes aware of just how annoying it sounds. Does she always sound like that?

“Hello,” the officer greets him and then he turns to Rachel. “Miss, are you aware that you were driving with a partially covered license plate?” he asks.

Rachel feels herself relax, if only just a little bit. So he doesn’t know anything about the money she’s stolen. That’s good. That’s fair. That’s safe.

“What? Oh, no officer. I’m sorry, I was in quite a hurry when I left and didn’t realize anything was obscuring it,” she says, quite honestly.

The officer looks at her for a moment before giving his head a short nod. “You have a coat sleeve sticking out of your trunk. Would you like me to fix it for you?”

Rachel shakes her head. “Oh no, that’s okay. I was going to look at trading my car in for another one instead actually. I’ll just make sure there’s nothing hanging out when I leave,” she tells him. She can see in his face that he’s wondering why she would want to trade in such a nice car for something pre-owned and probably not as nice. Well, that’s exactly the reason she wants to. No one who knows her would ever expect her to be driving a used car.

Again, the officer gives a short nod of his head. He tips his cap to both of them. “You have a good day now, the both of you,” he says before he turns and gets back into his car. Rachel doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until he drives away, and she feels herself release it.

“Now, you said you wanted to trade in?” the dealer says, turning back to her.

“Oh!” she says, pulling herself from her thoughts and tuning back into the situation. “Yes. How much money would you want in accordance with the car?” she asks, moving to open the backdoor and rummage for some of the cash in the briefcase.

“Don’t you want to take a look around first? Find one you like?” the dealer asks.

Rachel gives her head a shake. “I’m kind of in a hurry.” She glances around the lot and spots a fairly decent looking blue Sedan. “I’ll take that Sedan. How much do you want with the car?”

The dealer takes a moment to inspect her vehicle before he looks back at her. “Given the pristine condition of this fine car, I’d say, three hundred,” he says. She counts out three hundred dollars and holds it out to him. He stares in awe before gesturing for her to follow him into the office, so they can make the exchange.

Ten minutes later, she’s leaving the office with the keys to the Sedan.

“Don’t forget your bags ma’am!” the dealer calls out and Rachel startles. He’s right. She can’t just leave her things in her car. Well, it isn’t her car anymore. She rushes to grab her luggage and the briefcase of money and toss it all into the Sedan before she thanks the man and pulls out of the lot, merging quickly back onto the highway.

She feels better now that she is no longer driving a trackable car. But she still feels guilty. Maybe she shouldn’t take the other ninety-nine thousand, seven hundred dollars all the way to Ohio and give it to Finn. Maybe she should just go back home and give herself up, let them know the three hundred dollars missing can come out of her paycheck. But if she does that now, all the trading in the car would be for nothing. 

Again, Rachel’s hands tighten on the wheel and she steps on the gas a little more, accelerating a bit as a means to set herself firmly in what she intends to do. She has to go through with this. There is no turning back now. She knows that.

* * *

 

Several hours later, Rachel finds herself hunched over the wheel of her car and squinting her eyes. Rain is pounding the windshield and not even the wipers are helping. Drops are falling fast enough to replace every one that is washed away almost an instant later. Darkness swallows her surroundings and even with her squinting, she can still barely see the road a foot in front of her. The headlights on her car are not much help and Rachel knows, she knows she isn’t going to be able to drive all night and straight through.

Cursing under her breath, she starts watching for signs of a place to stop. Anything, whether it be a gas station or even a rest stop. Or maybe…

“A motel? All the way out here in the middle of nowhere?” she questions aloud, spotting the unmistakably bright lights of the motel sign cutting easily through the sheets of rain. She can’t really read the sign, but she figures that’s what it must be. There’s a smaller red glow of lights beneath the bigger words and squinting a little more, as she draws closer, she’s able to make out that it reads _Vacancy_. Yep, definitely a motel. Well, she might as well get out of the rain and turn in for the night. Even though she would rather take the rest of her hundred grand and drive straight through the storm.

She curses again at the fact that she has been hounded by weather. She hates the east coast at this time of year and sometimes, considers moving to Hollywood, but she somehow doesn’t believe her star will shine as brightly there.

Letting out a sigh, she pulls her car into the empty parking lot of the motel. It can’t be abandoned. The sign wouldn’t be alight if it were. But it appears that there are no other guests at the motel and that makes her feel slightly uneasy.

Grabbing a newspaper, she covers her head as she gets out of the car and makes her way to the front office door. The lights are off. The door is locked. The office appears to be deserted. However, she finds that there is a bell beside the door. Her finger hovers over it as she surveys the area. She notices something she hadn’t before.

There is a large old looking house standing just up the hill from the motel. She can see shadows of a figure in the windows. Rachel narrows her eyes slightly before pressing the bell. If there is someone up there, perhaps they will hear her and be courteous enough to come down and help her out.

As she waits, she turns to look back toward the sign and she can read it much more clearly now. It says, _Anderson Motel_. The only word on the sign not lit up is the ‘no’, which normally lets potential customers know that they have no rooms.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you miss. I was all the way up at the house,” a sudden voice says, startling Rachel and she turns to see a young but somehow well-dressed man standing there. He offers her a smile as he straightens his bowtie and pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. “Come on, let’s get you out of this storm,” he says.

“That would be just perfect,” she replies. “Thank you Mr…”

“Anderson, Blaine Anderson,” he supplies for her, offering another smile as he opens the door to the office and invites her inside. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asks, moving around the desk and switching on the lights.

“I hoped I could get a room for the night,” she says.

He smiles again, and Rachel is starting to find all the smiles a little unsettling. “Well, we have plenty of rooms. Twelve rooms, twelve vacancies. I hope you don’t mind being the only guest. Ever since that main highway went up, we don’t get a lot of business anymore.”

Rachel politely nods her head. So, there was a main highway. How had she missed it? She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

She’s pulled from her thoughts when he slides the guestbook towards her, that smile still on his face. She hesitates just a moment before she writes, _Barbara Hudson_. Rachel doesn’t want this man to know who she is, in case the authorities come looking for her. Putting down her middle name with Finn’s last name was the first thing that she thought of. Hopefully, it will be enough. She sets the pen down and offers the man a smile.

“So, where are you headed Miss. Hudson?” he says, and Rachel laughs a little nervously. He’s just trying to be nice and she knows she needs to relax a little. If Kurt were here, he’d tell her she was being paranoid.

“Ohio, actually,” she says. “I’m going to see family.” It’s not the truth but she does have family there. She is originally from Ohio.

“I see,” Blaine says. “Do you have a credit card?”

“What?” she says, forgetting for the moment that she is still checking in. “Oh! Would it be okay if I paid in cash?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says. “That will be seventy dollars for the night.”

Rachel hands him a hundred. “Keep the change,” she says. He gives her a grateful smile.

She finds herself lost in her thoughts for a moment, still a bit paranoid as he turns to examine the keys behind him, finally selecting the number one key.

“Room one,” he says, placing the key on the desk in front of them. “It’s closest to the office, in case you need anything.”

“That’s very kind, thank you,” she says.

He looks at her for a slight moment before he shakes himself free and moves back toward the door. “I’ll go get your bags. You go ahead and get in out of the rain,” he says.

“Thank you again,” she replies. Rachel throws the newspaper back up over her head and grabs the key from the desk before she follows him outside. She watches him go over to her car, as she makes her way hurriedly to the door of the first room. She slips the key in the lock and it turns smoothly, allowing her to push the door open.

It swings inward, revealing a decent but otherwise plain looking room. The bed is spread with a flowery quilt. There is a dresser against one wall with the television sitting atop it. The remote is lying on top of the television. There are two nightstands, one on either side of the bed. Both of them have lamps and one has a telephone she can use to phone the front office. A random landscape portrait is on the wall above the bed. And a picture of a flower vase hangs behind the television.

“The bathroom is through that door there.” Rachel startles, having forgotten for a moment that the man had gone to get her bags from her car. He sets them down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.

“Oh, that’s alright. It’s what I get for being distracted,” she says, laughing a little nervously. “Um…you wouldn’t happen to know where I can get anything to eat around here, would you?” she asks him.

Blaine furrows his brows in thought for a moment. “Well, there’s a twenty-four-hour diner about a quarter mile up the road, but that’s all you’re going to find at this hour. And I doubt you really want to go back out in that rain,” he tells her.

She shakes her head. “No, not really.” Rachel hugs herself, rubbing her arms and just realizing how cold she has become because of the weather.

He seems to be lost in thought for a moment before he says, “Oh! I know! You can have dinner with me. I can make us some milk and a couple of sandwiches. It’s not much but it sure beats going back out in that storm.”

Rachel regards him for a moment, still hugging herself. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replies. “Why don’t you take off your wet shoes and get settled. I’ll be back when it’s ready.”

“Okay, that would be nice, thank you,” she says. He smiles at her and leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Rachel takes a moment to examine her surroundings. This is not where she had been hoping to end up tonight. If not for the severity of the storm, she would have driven straight through to Lima.

She begins to start settling in and takes off her wet shoes. She’s just considering changing when she hears shouting and she looks towards the window. She can make out lights on in an upstairs bedroom of the house on the hill behind the motel. Rachel knows she shouldn’t intrude but she can’t help overhearing the strangely loud and clear argument that travels down to her.

“Dinnertime is family time! Why are you making food for that girl?”

“Like you have ever cared about family time father,” she hears Blaine’s voice reply. “It’s called hospitality. Isn’t that what you do when you run a motel?”

There’s an eerie several moments of silence before the reply comes. “Keep it up Blaine,” the unrecognizable voice says. “Keep it up and you will be sorry. I shall have to handle this myself.”

“Don’t you dare! One move from you and I’ll lock you in the basement father!”

“Don’t you threaten me boy! I rein supreme in this house!”

“Like hell you do!” There is a sudden slapping noise and Rachel jerks away from the window, trying to distract her mind with other thoughts. Like thoughts of seeing Finn the next day. Of handing him the money she stole to pay off his loans and get him out of debt.

That seems to do the trick because she is again startled by the sudden knock at the door. When she opens it, Blaine is standing there with a tray of sandwiches and milk just as he has promised. One of his cheeks is reddened from an obvious sign of being slapped and Rachel quickly decides to not call attention to it or what she had just overheard up at the house.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Would you accompany me to the office? It will be much warmer in there and I can show you the parlor,” Blaine says.

“Oh, um,” Rachel starts, not sure what she wants to say.

“Please?” he inquires, and she notices that there is really only enough food on that tray for one person. But she decides to oblige anyway.

“Yes, okay.”

“Great,” he grins. “Follow me.”

Rachel follows him as he leads her out of the room, keeping under the awning so they stay dry. He opens the door to the office just next door, holding it open for her to pass inside. The grin on his face is still there, even as he leads her into the back parlor.

However, the décor of the parlor makes her feel unsettled. There are stuffed dead animals set around the room. “Taxidermy,” he says, answering her unasked question. “Isn’t it marvelous? Now I can keep my pets with me for years to come,” he goes on. Rachel feels a wave of unease wash over her. Who in their right mind would want to keep dead pets with them for years? She tries not to show her discomfort, feeling grateful for her ability as an actress. “Please, have a seat,” Blaine continues, gesturing to the couch, and Rachel reluctantly obliges.

Blaine sets the tray down on the table in front of her and she gives him a nod of thanks. “It’s not much,” he tells her. “But please enjoy.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks, picking up the sandwich and examining it. She is relieved to find that it’s peanut butter and jelly. She would hate to turn it down should there have been meat on it. Maybe she should have thought to mention that when he offered.

“I’m not really hungry,” Blaine says, shaking his head and sitting down across from her. He seems to become suddenly nervous, periodically rubbing his hands over his pants. Rachel wonders if what she had overheard has anything to do with why he seems so shaken.

“Is it because of the argument you just had?” she says, realizing that she has just admitted to eavesdropping.

Blaine’s face contorts into a cringe. “You heard that?”

“It was kind of hard not to.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Father isn’t the easiest person to get on with. He…he has issues with lonely guests so to speak. He’s not the best at hospitality.”

Rachel regards him for a moment. “Well than why does he own a motel?” she asks.

He sighs. “It’s my motel now. But he wasn’t always the way he is now. It hasn’t been the best of years. Not after my mother died,” he explains.

“Maybe it would be better if you were to put him somewhere. A nursing home or an institution or something.”

The look that comes over Blaine’s face at her words has her immediately regretting them.

“You mean like a crazy house?” he says, and she can hear the sharpness in his tone, clipped and defensive.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…thought maybe it would be easier for an experienced professional to take care of him, rather than you having to balance caring for your father and running this motel at the same time.”

Blaine is quiet for several moments and she fears he is about to berate her. “Father wouldn’t do well in one of those places. He’s not crazy. He just goes a little mad sometimes. But we all do, don’t we? Don’t we all go a little mad sometimes Miss. Hudson?”

Rachel finds herself staring at him in silence. Questions and images arise in her mind when she thinks about how her director might have reacted when he learns that she didn’t put the money in the bank. That she stole one hundred thousand dollars from him. Yes, yes, perhaps Blaine is right. Perhaps everyone does go a little mad sometimes. Wasn’t stealing a hundred grand from her theater on a whim considered going a little mad? Maybe it was considered going a lot mad. But all she had been thinking about was how much she wanted to spend her life with Finn, no matter what it took.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We all do go a little mad sometimes.”

The smile that crosses Blaine’s face then makes her stomach churn. It isn’t the pleasant one she’s already accustomed to seeing. No, there’s something different about this one, something wholly unsettling. She decides that’s her cue to get out of there.

“I should get back to my room,” she says. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

He looks at the tray where her sandwich is only half eaten, and the glass of milk is untouched. “You didn’t drink your milk,” he remarks.

“I’m a vegan,” she says. “I don’t drink milk.”

“I’m so sorry. Would you like me to get you some water instead?”

She shakes her head and waves her hand. “No, no I’m fine. Thank you for offering though.”

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay longer, just for some talk? I’d really like to talk,” he says then.

She stands from her seat, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “That’s quite alright. I’m really sorry but I need to be getting up early, so I can get an early start.”

“Right. My apologies,” Blaine says. “Have a good night.”

Rachel politely returns the sentiment and makes her way as quickly as she can out of the parlor without drawing attention to her discomfort. Blaine remains seated and watches her go.

“She’s quite a lovely one, isn’t she Blaine,” he hears his father’s voice say and he shakes his head.

“I know where you’re going with this father and it’s not going to work.” But even as he says it, Blaine finds himself rising from his seat and moving across the room. He takes a picture off the wall, revealing a small hole. Both hands brace against the wall as he leans forward to peer into the hole.

The hole is a direct line of sight into room one. Perhaps subconsciously, the real reason Blaine gave Rachel that room. It’s small enough that the occupant cannot notice it. Blaine loses track of himself as he peers through the hole and one hand begins to slide down his own chest as he watches.

In room one, Rachel has opened the door to the bathroom and moved to turn on the shower nozzle. She opens her suitcase and begins to root through it for a change of clothes. The plastic pink of the suitcase is a stark contrast to the duller tones of the room that she’s in. It sticks out like a sore thumb.

Pushing it aside as she pulls a robe out, Rachel slowly unzips her dress and begins to slide it off, oblivious to the fact that she is being watched or that her peeping tom is getting pleasure out of what he is seeing.

She drops her dress to the floor and steps into the bathroom, unfastening her bra and setting it atop the towel she’s already placed on the toilet. She’s now out of eyeshot of the peeping tom, but it doesn’t matter because she’s still unaware and he’s gotten his fill.

Rachel disposes of the last of her undergarments and steps into the shower, immediately grabbing a hold of the soap and shutting her eyes, getting lost in the feel of the hot spray against her skin. She hadn’t realized that this was what she had needed. Nor had she realized that she hadn’t showered since before work the last day she’d worked. The day she took the money. It has been at least a day since then, nearly the whole weekend. She’s unsure. She lost track of time a long time ago.

Her mind drifts to Finn and she slows in her ministrations with the soap, beginning to imagine it’s his hands on her body, caressing every inch of her skin. The sudden feeling of arousal washes over her and a smile crosses her face. She still doesn’t open her eyes.

And then her fantasy is interrupted by a crack of thunder outside, causing her to startle and she braces her hand against the wall of the shower, grabbing a fistful of the curtain in her other hand.

The thunder however, has come at just the right moment, disguising the sound of a door being opened. The carpet in the bedroom muffles the sound of footsteps, though Rachel would fail to hear them anyway over the sound of the shower. She returns to washing herself, cursing when she realizes she has no means of shampoo and will likely have to use the soap in her hair.

A sudden feeling of dread washes over her and she opens her eyes, looking around like she expects to be startled, but she sees nothing. She continues washing herself, however, she refuses to close her eyes again.

The shower covers the sound of the bathroom door being opened. A shadowy figure can be made out through the plastic of the shower curtain, but Rachel pays it no attention until she seems to notice it out of the corner of her eyes.

Wiping a hand down her face, she sets the soap down and makes the bad decision to reach for the curtain.

A scream leaves her mouth at the sight of the figure standing there with a knife raised and seconds later, it is cut off. 

Along with Rachel’s head.

* * *

 

Blaine blinks his eyes open to find himself sitting in his kitchen. When he had come in there is unclear. The last thing he remembers is sitting in the parlor at the back of the office, watching Miss. Hudson leave the room and feeling a bit sad that she wouldn’t stay for talk. Blaine’s mind feels clear for the first time in several hours. Except for one thing.

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore Blaine,” father says. “I took care of it.”

Blaine feels his whole body begin to stiffen up. He knows father thinks he means well, but when he takes care of something, it usually means something bad has taken place. He scrambles up from the kitchen table.

“What did you do?” he asks, not stopping his step as he makes headway for the front door.

“I told you,” father says in a clipped tone. “I took care of it.” Blaine doesn’t want to know the details, doesn’t ask for them, but he’s sure he’s about to find out.

It’s still raining, but the storm seems to have calmed quite a bit since the young woman showed up at the motel. Is she alright? Maybe he is just being paranoid, and father didn’t do the thing he has been dreading.

He barely registers making his way down the steps and walking toward the motel. The vacancy sign is flickering, likely due to a spark in the wiring. Blaine knows he needs to check that. But he pushes the thoughts from his head and walks on, passing the darkened office and to room one. He finds the door open just slightly and he feels his body fill with dread.

Slowly, Blaine pushes the door to the room open, his hand splayed on the wood of the front of it, feeling both very heavy, and like nothing at all.

The bathroom door is ajar, and he can hear the water running. Miss. Hudson’s suitcase sits open on the bed, the contents of which are slightly askew. He sees her dress lying in a heap on the floor, near the bathroom door.

But none of these details are what really grabs his attention. The room is silent, with no sounds other than the shower, his first sign that something is terribly wrong. And that is when he sees it. A dark red trail pooling at the carpet line where the carpet ends, and the bathroom tile begins. A hand flies up to his mouth instantly and he stumbles a few steps backward. He knows what that red substance is. He knows what father has done.

“Why?!” Blaine manages to cry out. He slides down a post that marks the other side of the outdoor corridor for the motel. He sits crumpled in a heap, feeling the seat of his pants begin to get soggy from the wet ground just beyond the post. Anguished cries leave his mouth, piercing through the sounds of the lighter thunder and rain. He needs to pull himself together. He needs to clean this up. No one needs to know.

By the time he finally musters his strength and ventures back into the room and to the bathroom to assess the damage, he finds it is worse than he thought. And he has to swallow several times to keep from being sick. Miss. Hudson’s naked body lies halfway out of the bathtub. Her legs and feet are unmoving in the tub. Her behind is raised in the air over the side of the tub. Her torso, arms and neck, are crashed into the floor. But her head, her head is nowhere to be seen. The stream of blood is pouring from the stump of her neck where her head has been cut clean off. He can see more clearly now that half the bathroom floor is covered in red, the blood slowly seeping to fill in the corners and cracks.

The shower curtains are half ripped from the rings. He realizes she must have grabbed a hold of them in her last seconds and tugged them down as she fell forward.

It takes him another several minutes to compose himself enough to get cleaning supplies. He shakes a little as he discovers her bra lying atop the towel on the toilet, both of which are spattered. He’ll have to dispose of them.

Blaine works diligently for what feels like forever. He removes the remainder of the shower curtain and wraps the headless body in it. All over evidence in the bathroom he throws away in a garbage bag, tying it tight and setting it outside. The biggest task is removing all the blood. He mops and mops, the floor, the toilet, and even scrubs at the crack where the tile meets the carpet with a sponge, determined to get every last remnant of the blood, leaving the surface clean and polished and pristine once more. He’ll replace the shower curtain later.

Once the room is clean, he has the daunting task now of getting rid of the body. Carefully picking up the curtain clad headless corpse, Blaine walks briskly out to Miss. Hudson’s car. He pops the trunk and dumps her body inside. It doesn’t take him long to find the keys and he gets into the driver’s seat.

For several tense moments, Blaine just sits there with his hands on the wheel, not knowing whether he can proceed forward, and yet knowing that he has to. He spends a couple of minutes getting in and out of the car, pacing after that and finally, he grabs a brick, climbs back in, and starts the engine.

Blaine drives a few minutes down the forgotten highway and turns off onto a dirt road. He doesn’t drive down there too far until he sees the approaching lake. He drives as close to the edge as he dares before he pulls to a stop, gets out with the engine still running, and drops the brick on the gas pedal. He has just enough time to shut the driver’s side door before the car rolls forward and over the embankment. 

He watches it slowly begin to sink, and when it seems to stop partway, his body tenses, but then it continues to sink until the entire car is submerged and no longer visible. Blaine shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk back home in the pouring rain.

* * *

 

Kurt grips the steering wheel as he sits in the parking spot of his stepbrother’s apartment complex. He keeps thinking about what has transpired the last few days. About Rachel’s sudden disappearance. About how he knows that she took the money with her. About the fact that he’s pretty sure he knows what she intended to do with it. Finn needs money. He’s in debt. Rachel is in love with Finn, but what she doesn’t know is that Finn is still married to Quinn. He’s praying for the strength to go into what is going to look like a scene from a slaughter house most likely. But he’s confused why Rachel’s car is not in the complex parking lot. Or why she hasn’t elected to fly.

He glances at the rental car sticker in the corner of the front window and keeps thinking about the discussion he had overheard at the theater. The director and Mr. Walters were having a heated discussion about the missing money. Mr. Walters was accusing Rachel, or as he was referring to her ‘that little hussy’. Just the memory of his words has Kurt gripping the steering wheel so tight his already pale knuckles were going paler. How dare that man refer to Rachel in such a manner.

But he knows. He knows this is where she would come. Finn isn’t the brightest though. Kurt is not sure why he would give Rachel the address to the apartment he shares with Quinn. And he wonders why it’s so quiet. Surely there is still something going on.

It takes him another several moments to get out of the car and head towards the door. He hears nothing but silence coming from behind it. The very thought unnerves him. He raises his hand and knocks on the door.

A moment later, it is opened to reveal a young blonde woman with a toddler on her hip. “Kurt?” she says in surprise. She shifts the child to her other hip and looks at him curiously. “What are you doing here?”

He knows that Finn and Quinn certainly weren’t expecting him. He also knows that he can’t mention to Quinn the exact reason why he’s here. If nothing seems out of the ordinary, maybe Rachel didn’t come see Finn at the apartment but went to the shop and Quinn still doesn’t know anything about it. He racks his brain for an excuse and only comes up with the most obvious one.

“Is Finn home?” he asks. Quinn gives him a strange look for a moment.

“No, he’s at the shop. Was he expecting you?” she says.

Kurt shakes his head. “No, this is kind of an emergency.” It dawns on Quinn then and the confusion seems to fall away from her face. The child in her arms babbles something and Quinn stroke’s her hair. “Do you know how long he’ll be there?”

She turns her head to look at the clock. “A couple more hours at least. If it’s that urgent, you might be better off going to the shop,” she tells him. Kurt gives her a nod. She’s right of course.

“Alright,” he says. “Are you okay?”

She gives him a strange look. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” he says thinking quickly. “The impending divorce?”

Quinn lets out a sigh. “We’re not discussing that right now. If that’s what you came to talk to Finn about, then yeah, go to the shop.” He can hear the testiness in her voice and quickly apologizes for bringing it up.

“No, it’s not, but sorry,” he says again. “I’ll hopefully see you later,” he adds before turning and making his way back to his rental car. He can feel her eyes boring into his back curiously, as she watches him from the doorway. It makes him uncomfortable, her questioning stare. As a result, it takes him no time to restart the car and make his way to the shop.

“Hey kiddo!” His dad’s voice is the first thing he hears when he gets out of the car. He can hear the surprise in his voice, mostly because like Quinn, Burt Hummel has not been expecting his son to show up at his shop, back home in Lima.

“Hey dad,” Kurt says and smiles at the man, giving him a hug. Sure, the trip was impromptu, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t happy to see his dad. Kurt’s happy that he and his dad are so close. He feels like they turned a corner together when he confided in him about his sexuality his sophomore year of high school. It had been just the two of them since Kurt’s mom had died when he was eight, and even though they wouldn’t admit it, they had really struggled to see eye to eye on their own together.

Then when Kurt introduced Burt to Finn’s mom Carole, they turned another corner. And soon, they were a family once more.

“What brings you here out of the blue kid?” Burt asks, pulling Kurt from his mental thoughts. The pale man looks back at his dad.

“Is Finn around?” he says and Burt tips the ball cap on his head and nods in the direction of a car.

Kurt follows his indication to where his stepbrother is sliding out from under the car hood, looking like a grease monkey. Kurt gets it. People who don’t know him well don’t realize he actually has no problem with dirt. He knows his way around a car and has been known to be his own grease monkey from time to time. Of course, Kurt would never wear his designer clothes to do it.

“Hey Finn,” he says, approaching the much taller man. Startled, Finn nearly hits his head on the hood of the car as he rolls back out, having merely grabbed a wrench to go back in. Oil is smudged across his face and Kurt resists the urge to laugh at him.

“Kurt,” Finn states in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The mere question sobers Kurt up and he takes a seat in a chair by the work bench. “Have you heard from Rachel?” he asks.

Whatever Finn was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. He grabs a greased-up towel and makes a lame attempt to wipe his face, only managing to smudge it even more. “Don’t you see her every weekday at work?” is what he says. His words are enough to tell Kurt that maybe he hasn’t heard from Rachel. And Kurt knows Finn wouldn’t lie to him. First, he’s not that creative when it comes to hiding the truth, and secondly, Finn knows that Kurt is the only other person who knows about him and Rachel.

Kurt shakes his head and glances down at the floor. “She left early Friday to deposit a check a big rich tycoon gave the theater in exchange for ad space. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since and the money was never put in the director’s bank account, which means she took it with her.”

The expression on Finn’s face is nearly identical to the one Kurt wore when he first learned of this information. Kurt’s pretty sure that even though Finn isn’t a genius, he would very easily come to the same conclusion Kurt himself had.

“Please Finn, if you’ve heard from her, I have to know.”

“So, do I,” comes a sudden voice and the stepbrothers turn to see a rather big guy in a suit making his way towards them. He flashes a badge long enough for them to read the words ‘Noah Puckerman, Private Investigator’.

Kurt looks the guy up and down. Somehow, he has trouble believing this guy would ever become a private investigator. In fact, Kurt thinks he looks like he would be more comfortable on the other side of the law instead. He wonders what lead him to this position. He and Finn exchange a glance.

“Excuse me, who are you?” Kurt asks.

“You read the badge, right?” the man replies, and Kurt narrows his eyes at him.

“Maybe you should learn to stop butting in on people’s private conversations,” the pale man snaps. Given what he has learned about this man in a short time, he’s willing to bet the only privates he’s ever investigated are women’s downstairs plumbing.

“I’m a private investigator,” he says. “Butting into people’s private conversations is my business. Now if you don’t mind,” he pauses and turns to look at Finn. “I do believe this man asked you a question.”

Finn opens his mouth, intending to reply but Kurt holds up his hand. “Hold on Finn, don’t answer that yet,” he says, still eyeing the investigator, or so the man says. “How did you know to come here?” The tone in Kurt’s voice suggests that he’s not particularly joyous about the man finding them so easily. He raises his eyebrow and looks at him, waiting for a response. After several seconds of silence though, Kurt tuts, crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting.”

Noah gets this sense that this young man feels he’s entitled and if he really feels that way, it would be in his best interest to appease him rather than to try and beat around the bush. So, he finally gives in.

“Your boss told me you and Miss. Berry were close friends, so I just followed you, knowing you were likely looking for her.”

Kurt tuts again. He certainly doesn’t approve of this man thinking he has the right to just follow him if he doesn’t have his own lead. Though he’s also in disapproval of the director telling him that he and Rachel were good friends. He gave him ammo that he could use, and Kurt doesn’t appreciate that. He knows he’s going to need to have a talk with his boss when he gets back to New York. Make sure he knows that he has no liberty to share either his or Rachel’s personal life.

“So, is there a reason Miss. Berry would come here?” Noah asks, looking the two men up and down. “And have you heard from her?”

Finn finally finds himself in a position to actually say something. He’s kind of grateful for Kurt because he’s not usually one to insert himself in a possible confrontation. He prefers to try and break them up rather than start them or be a part of them. He still gets uncomfortable about some of the stuff that went down in high school, particularly when it came out he lost his virginity to one of the sluttiest cheerleaders in the whole school. She later turned out to be a lesbian but that was beside the point.

“Look, I haven’t heard from Rachel and I don’t know why she would come see me,” he says. “There’s nothing between us.”

Kurt knows Finn is trying hard not to out the fact that he and Rachel are involved. He’s still married to Quinn and if this got back to her, the fur would almost certainly fly and that’s not something he wants.

“She knows you’re in debt Finn,” Kurt says, voice quiet. “I thought she would bring the money to you, and you and I both know her well enough to know that’s the first thing she would do.”

Finn’s hands fly up into his hair, causing Kurt to cringe because now Finn has grease in his hair. “She can’t come back here, not right now!” he says. “I don’t care if she wants to give me stolen money! She just can’t!”

“Because you’re still married to Quinn,” Kurt comments. It’s not a question, but a statement. Finn gives him a look and opens and closes his mouth. But he has no reply. He knows that Kurt is right. And he also knows that even if Rachel knew that, it wouldn’t stop her. Even now, she’s still a force to be reckoned with when it comes to being the girl who owns Finn’s heart. Kurt honestly thinks they would both be better off leaving each other be.

“As juicy as this is,” Noah says, interrupting the two brothers from having what is apparently a very in-depth conversation. “I’m still looking for Miss. Berry you know.”

Kurt turns from facing Finn and stares at the Investigator. “I know for a fact this is where she would come. But if she didn’t show up…” He trails off and looks back at Finn.

“You don’t think something happened to her, do you?” Finn asks.

Noah flips his notepad shut and shoves the pencil behind his ear. Sure, he could take notes on his phone, but he knows if he does that, he will forget they are even there. “There were heavy thunderstorms in this area over the weekend in question. It’s possible she may have pulled off to wait out the storm somewhere,” he says.

Kurt shakes his head and paces between Finn and Noah, throwing his hands up in frustration. “That doesn’t explain why she didn’t show up after. I’m worried. It’s not like Rachel to not follow a decision all the way through. Her determination is incredibly ambitious.”

“I’ll ask around,” Noah replies, slipping the pad of paper into his jacket pocket. “See if I can’t get a clue on a lead.” He tips the hat on his head to the two of them, turning to make his leave from the shop.

Finn turns to look at Kurt, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You don’t really think something bad has happened to Rachel, do you?” he asks.

Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t know Finn. I really don’t know.” And he doesn’t.

* * *

 

The slam of the car door echoes eerily in the otherwise deserted lot. Even in the light of day, this place looks just this side of creepy. Noah straightens the hat on his head as he looks up at the small building, fixing his eyes on it for only a moment before he turns to peer up at the house on the hill behind it. The old house looks even more daunting than the motel in front of it. He glances over his shoulder at the ‘Anderson Motel’ sign behind him. A part of him isn’t sure that he’s going to find out anything here at all.

It takes him a few moments, but he finally moves forward from his car, shielding his eyes to try and see in through the office door as he approaches it. The lights are off but daylight streaming through the window makes it easy for him to make out the desk, the guestbook still lies open upon it.

“Can I help you?” Noah jumps at the sound of the voice and turns to see a shorter man standing there, looking at him with his head inclined and a triangular eyebrow raised. “Do you need a room?” the man continues, not giving the private investigator a chance to speak.

“Where did you come from?” Noah asks, looking for signs of where the man could have come from.

“The house,” he replies. “So, do you need a room or?” he states, apparently not wanting to waste time with petty questions.

Noah shakes his head. “I’m looking for someone. Are you the proprietor of this motel?” he says.

The man nods. “Yes, I’m Blaine Anderson. I can’t fathom why you would be looking for anyone here. We haven’t had any guests for weeks. It’s just me and father up at the house,” he says.

The investigator feels slightly uneasy about this man. Something is off about him. But he decides to press on. “Really?” he says. He reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a photograph, holding it out for Blaine to see. “You haven’t seen this girl?” he asks.

Blaine takes the photo. His brain inwardly short circuits and panics when he sees it’s a picture of the girl he’d just disposed of a few days ago. But he keeps himself together. “No, I haven’t seen her,” he says. “I’m telling you, there hasn’t been anyone here for weeks. What’s her name?” he adds.

“Rachel,” Noah says. “Rachel Berry.”

The curly haired man feels his body tense up. The young woman had lied about her name. he doesn’t know why, but something about the name sounds familiar.

“She’s a Broadway star,” Noah says.

Bingo. That’s why her name sounds familiar and maybe that’s why she decided to use a false name. But it wouldn’t have mattered to Blaine. He doesn’t keep up with Broadway as much these days. That doesn’t stop him from hearing things in passing. Seeing the ads for the shows on television the rare occasions he chooses to partake in viewing programs. It’s been a while since Blaine indulged in what normal people would do. He’s got too much on his plate, having to care for father and all. He doesn’t get much time to himself anymore. A guitar, once well strummed, even sits in the back of his closet, gathering dust now.

He hands the picture back to Noah.

“I still haven’t seen her,” he says. When did he become so good at this? The covering up stuff? Sometimes it scares him to think about. Those rare moments when Blaine finds himself fully intact, his brain fully his own, those are the moments when he sits and wonders how did he get to this point? How did he manage to surpass everyone’s suspicions and not get caught?

He’s tried. Tried to push that burning away. The negativity that has been slowly taking hold and attempting to consume him ever since his mother died. He’s tried to fight it. But it’s no use. Not on his own anyway. He’s considered seeing a specialist, maybe being prescribed medication to keep it at bay, but he can’t do that. Doing that would mean admitting to everything and that just is not something Blaine sees himself doing.

“…at your guestbook,” he catches the investigator saying, realizing he’s been lost in his own head for several moments.

“I’m sorry, what?” he says.

Noah looks irritated for a moment before he repeats himself. “I said, then you wouldn’t mind me taking a look at your guestbook.”

 _Yes, I would mind_ , Blaine thinks to himself, but he knows if he refuses, it will appear as though he has something to hide and he certainly doesn’t want this man to think that he does.

“No, not at all,” he says instead. He pulls the office key out of his pocket and proceeds to unlock the door, pushing it open and gesturing for the investigator to enter to the room first. He momentarily panics when he notices that the guestbook is still open on the desk, but he hides it well. “So, why are you looking for her?” he asks, now genuinely interested in learning more about what the young woman might have been doing here.

“She stole some money from the theater,” Noah says, not bothering to sugarcoat it or anything. He still doesn’t trust that this guy is giving him truthful answers and he’s hoping that by sharing as much information about Rachel, it might jog his memory and get him to spill the beans.

“How much money?” Blaine asks, remembering the young woman asking to pay in cash rather than credit card.

“One hundred thousand dollars.” Noah’s eyes do not move up from the guestbook where he’s now perusing the last few entries. “Barbara Hudson?” he asks after a moment. “It says she arrived last Saturday night?”

Blaine tells himself not to panic. “Oh her, yes, there was a young woman named Barbara who stayed here Saturday, but she got up early on Sunday morning and went on her way,” he tells him. He doesn’t think the investigator has reason to dwell on the name.

“Mr. Anderson,” Noah starts, “Are you aware that Barbara is Miss. Berry’s middle name?”

Blaine shakes his head, beginning to feel the panic arise. “No.”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Did you know Hudson is the last name of the married man she’s been seeing?” he asks.

Again, Blaine shakes his head. He knows there’s no doubt that he’s been caught in a lie now. But he also knows the reason why Rachel lied about her name. She was running and trying to hide, because of stolen money.

“No.”

The investigator stands up straight and takes the hat off his head, revealing a very unlikely hairstyle for a private detective. He has a mohawk.

“So, she was here,” he says.

Blaine sighs. He knows now that he’s been caught for sure. “Yes, I suppose she was. But she didn’t tell me anything and I swear, she left early on Sunday morning. Didn’t even stay for breakfast.”

Noah regards him for several moments. He knows that something is off. If it was like Anderson says and Rachel did leave early on Sunday, she should have been found in Lima, but seeing as there is no evidence of her ever having been there, he knows that likely didn’t happen.

“Can I see the room?”

“What?”

“Can I see the room, the one she stayed in?”

Blaine pauses for just a moment. He’s only slightly paranoid that the investigator may find something. But he knows the room is spotless and he replaced the shower curtain, so there is no longer any evidence of what happened in that room. Besides, he doesn’t want to say no and draw suspicion to himself. He’s pretty sure this guy is already suspicious enough as it is.

Don’t let them know the hidden truth.

Instead of responding with words, Blaine turns around and removes the key for room one from the hook. He holds it up and jiggles it just a little before coming out from behind the desk and making his way for the door.

His brain is still trying to catch up, process all this. He can’t imagine what would happen if they find out she’s dead. That father killed her. And Blaine still doesn’t know what he did with the poor girl’s head. He thinks back to the brief moment he came back to himself after the moment in the parlor, finding himself sticky and he knows what father did in that moment. It makes him feel dirty and disgusting. Father can be disgusting.

His musings keep his brain preoccupied and it isn’t until he’s in the room that he comes back to himself again, just in time to make sure the investigator doesn’t think something is wrong with him.

“This is the room,” he says, throwing his hands up and letting them drop to his sides.

Noah enters the room and glances around. It looks untouched and doesn’t appear to have been used recently but he’s not surprised. It’s typical of motels and hotels to clean and straighten out the room between guests. Though with as little customers as this place seems to get, he wouldn’t put it past him to slack off a bit, not feeling the need to tidy up.

“You said she left early Sunday morning?” Noah asks.

Blaine nods his head. “Yes.”

“Any idea where she was headed?”

This time, Blaine shakes his head. “No. She didn’t say a whole lot while she was here. Mostly kept to herself. I brought her a sandwich and some milk, but she didn’t really eat much of it either.” Half of that statement is true. She didn’t really eat much of what he gave her, despite claiming that she was hungry prior to eating.

Noah is silent for several moments. He moves around the room, inspecting every inch of it and stops at the front window, where eerily, he can see the house at the top of the hill just out of eyesight.

Turning back to Blaine, he says, “You say you live with your father?”

“Yes, it’s just me and father,” Blaine replies, not sure where this is going.

“Do you think I can speak with your father? See if he knows anything more?”

Blaine goes still. No one has ever wanted to speak to father before. And he’s pretty sure father won’t want to speak to this investigator. It’s bad enough that he’s prowling around because he doesn’t think that Blaine’s telling the truth. And well, he’s not. Not the entire truth anyway.

He finally shakes his head. No, no, father’s ill. He doesn’t really take any company besides mine. He didn’t speak with her either. Just me,” he says quickly.

Noah gives him a critical eye, and Blaine knows he doesn’t entirely believe him. But should he have expected anything else? “Right. Are you sure he won’t make an exception to help find a missing person?”

Blaine shakes his head again. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure. He’s not too fond of visitors. It’s usually why he stays at the house and lets me handle the motel.” He tells him.

The man with the mohawk is silent for several moments. He places his hat back on his head and Blaine feels a slight bit of relief. It’s clear the man is getting ready to leave. Maybe he won’t question him anymore. Maybe it will all be over now, and he can finally relax, release the tension that has built up in his body. He’s not sure if the man can see it or tell that he’s hiding something. But he does know that cops don’t press without any proof.

“Well then, I guess I have to head out,” Noah says, and Blaine feels himself relax. Noah pulls out a card and hands it to him. “But you give me a call if you remember anything significant and try and talk to your father about talking to me. It would be a lot of help.”

Blaine nods his head. “I will, sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” he says.

Noah merely tips his hat at him and walks out of the room. Blaine stays where he is, waiting for the investigator’s car to leave the parking lot before he tears the card up and throws it in the trash bin. No way does he want this guy coming back and poking his head in places it really doesn’t belong. 

Straightening his jacket, Blaine leaves room one and locks the door. He deposits the key back on the hook in the office before shutting off the lights and heading back to the house.

* * *

 

Kurt is pacing Finn’s apartment when they get the phone call. Quinn watches both men run to the phone, only for Finn to lose his nerve at the last second and for Kurt to answer it.

“Hello?” he says into the phone.

“This is Private Investigator Noah Puckerman,” comes the reply. Kurt rolls his eyes but turns to give Finn a curt nod of his head and grips the phone tighter. He begins pacing with the cellular device seeming to be permanently attached to his ear.

“And?” is all he says to the greeting.

There is a pause. “Apparently, Miss. Berry took a room at the Anderson Motel,” is Noah’s reply.

“What the hell is the Anderson Motel?” Kurt spits out.

“Hey, I know that place!” Finn says suddenly. “It’s a small motel off the old highway, the one less traveled now with the main freeway pass. It’s got a creepy old house up the hill behind it.” Kurt wrinkles his nose, wondering why the hell Rachel would ever want to stay there.

Noah clears his throat and continues. “The proprietor was a little strange. Claims it’s just him and his father living there. Anyway, he said Rachel stayed there Saturday night and left early Sunday morning. And that was all that I could get out of him. Aside from getting him to show me the room.”

Kurt furrows his brow and looks over at Finn. If not for the fact that Quinn is in the room, he would put it on speaker phone. As it is, he doesn’t want her knowing any of the intricate details of the situation. “Did you find anything?”

Noah shakes his head even though he knows they can’t see him. “No. The room looked like there hadn’t been any occupants in it recently at all. I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up. I’m going to go back and see if I can’t talk to the father. He’s got to have seen something surely.”

“Do you think the proprietor is hiding something?” Kurt asks.

“I’m not completely sure, but I would say it’s more than likely he is,” Noah tells him. “Give me about an hour and I’ll call you guys back. Let you know if I find out anything more.”

“Right, we’ll be waiting for that call.” Kurt hears the click of the phone on the other end and pockets the one he’s holding. “Come on Finn. We need to go see what we can find out about the proprietor of the Anderson Motel.”

Finn grabs his coat and Quinn looks ready to protest but a firm look from Kurt tells her now is not the time.

“What did he say?” Finn asks as he follows Kurt out of the apartment.

“He said the man there might be hiding something. All he told him was that Rachel stayed for Saturday night and left early Sunday morning. Noah thinks something more is up. He’s going back to try and talk to the father and said he would contact us again in an hour. But I’m not going to sit around and wait.”

Finn seems to think for a moment as he gets into the passenger seat of Kurt’s rental car. “We can go talk to the sheriff. He’s been in this county a long time. He might know something,” he says.

“Good thinking Finn.”

Kurt starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. They stay silent other than the sound of Finn guiding him on how to get to the sheriff’s house. The retired county sheriff, Kurt learns. He’s not sure what good a retired sheriff is going to do him, but Finn assures him that he’s been around a long time and should be able to tell them more about the Anderson Motel.

It’s only minutes later they’re parked out in front of the house and Kurt sits there gripping the steering wheel. He’s a little afraid of what they’re going to learn when they go in, but he knows it’s for the best. The more they know about this place, the more they can help that investigator figure out what exactly happened to Rachel.

“Are you ready for this?” Finn asks.

“Not even remotely,” Kurt says as they both get out of the car. 

“You and me both,” Finn replies and the two of them make their way up to the front door of the sheriff’s house.

* * *

 

It is dark by the time Noah returns to the Anderson Motel. He can tell that the office is dark, meaning that Blaine must be back up at the house. That’s fine. That’s where he intends to go anyway. Noah is going to demand to speak with Blaine’s father and he’s not going to take no for an answer. Mostly because he has no answers yet. And it’s his job to solve this case, find Rachel, and find the missing money. So, he needs to talk to both Anderson men, not just Blaine.

The darkness of the night makes the eeriness factor of the place all that more heightened. Noah would rather not go anywhere near that house, not even in the day, but he has a job to do and answers to get so, he pushes away his pride and starts up the steps in the hill.

He can make out that a light is on in an upper window, but other than that, the house appears to be dark. A figure passes in front of the window, confirmation that someone is home. Noah, for some reason, finds that to send a shiver up his spine. Maybe after this, he should retire, go play football or music, or even return to pool cleaning. He made good money doing that. Why did he ever make the decision to become a private investigator in the first place? Oh right, because then he could get the hot cougars and the big bucks. Even bigger bucks than the pool cleaning was giving him.

Noah suddenly finds himself at the top of the steps and facing the door. He raises a hand to knock but decides better of it. If he can sneak into the house and find the father on his own, he won’t need Blaine’s permission to speak with him. Knocking would just get him turned away again and that is certainly not what he wants.

Curiously, he reaches out a hand and tries the doorknob. It’s unlocked, turning easily and surprisingly without a creak. Noah silently thanks the heavens for getting him in quietly. He passes though the first door, and then the second that leads into the stairwell entryway.

For a moment, Noah just stands still, carefully shutting the door behind him and looking around. Down the hall to his right is the kitchen. To his left is the living room. In front of him is a staircase, and dwindling down that staircase, floats the words of conversation.

“You listen to me boy, I am still the man of this house.”

“Father, you are too weak. Look at the frailness of your stature now.”

There is a growl. “I am not weak enough to overpower you Blaine! Oh, how you continue to disappoint me night and day! It’s your fault Blaine! What happened to that girl is your fault!”

The response sounds like a snap of character. “How is it my fault?! How is it my fault father?! I didn’t lay a hand on her!”

A sound similar to a smack or a slap pierces the air and Noah finds that to be his cue to start up the stairs. If there is domestic violence involved here, it will need to be reported.

“If you would have just been attracted to her!” are the words he hears next and Noah freezes on the step. It sounds like Blaine’s father is telling him that if he had been into her, nothing would have happened to the girl. Did that mean what Noah thinks it means?

When Blaine speaks again, his voice sounds broken, brittle with the threat of tears.

“I have never been, nor will I ever be, interested in the intimate companionship of girls! Why can’t you just accept that?!”

“You’re a disgrace!” The harsh shout is followed by another slapping sound and it causes Noah to unfreeze and continue his way on up the stairs.

It’s only as he’s almost to the top that the door opens and before he even realizes what’s happening, a figure slices a knife twice at his face, cutting him and throwing his balance. Noah suddenly finds himself falling backwards, flying a bit through the air, down the stairs and landing hard on the floor at the bottom. There is a sickening crack as he lands, and the investigator knows no more.

Standing at the top of the stairs is a figure, a knife dripping blood held tightly in his hand. His chest heaves up and down as he breathes heavily, gritting his teeth, his eyes wild.

“Eavesdroppers need to be taught a lesson,” Blaine says. 

But it is father’s voice that comes out.

* * *

Kurt knows that they should get to the point of why they have come to pay the sheriff a visit but both he and Finn have tip-toed around the subject, neither one coming up with the best way to break the ice. That is the excuse he’s giving himself. In reality, he’s pretty sure they just don’t really want to talk about the elephant in the room. Not that former sheriff knows there is one.

It’s not until Kurt realizes it’s been well over an hour since they last heard from the investigator that he gets serious about it again. He gives Finn a concerned look and points to the time on his phone.

“He hasn’t called yet?” Finn says aloud.

“Who hasn’t called yet?” the sheriff says. He and his wife are sitting in the living room with the two of them, having offered them coffee and a bit to eat. Neither Finn nor Kurt has eaten a whole lot that day, which says a lot in Finn’s case. He’s usually like a black hole when it comes to meals. But both of them are too wound up to even so much as think about food.

Kurt bites his lip. “A private investigator named Noah Puckerman,” he tells the sheriff.

“What do you boys need with a private investigator?” the sheriff questions, raising an eyebrow. His wife is giving the two of them a concerned look.

Kurt lets out a sigh and explains the story to the sheriff, who listens intently to everything the young man has to say. It is clear to him that something might not be right with the whole thing. Kurt doesn’t miss the thoughtful expression that crosses the sheriff’s face.

“Have you heard of the Anderson Motel?” Finn blurts out as Kurt finishes explaining about Rachel. The sheriff turns his attention to him.

“What do you want with the Anderson Motel?” he says.

“Noah told us he found out that Rachel stayed there Saturday night,” Kurt replies. “He said the proprietor said she had left early Sunday morning, but he didn’t buy it, so he said he was going to go back to try and talk to the guy’s father. The man was refusing to let him.”

A sudden hush befalls the entire house and Kurt doesn’t miss the strange expression both the sheriff and his wife are giving him. Something he said clearly either rang a bell or hit a nerve and he isn’t sure he really wants to know which one.

“Did you just say that this Noah guy wanted to talk to the proprietor’s father?” the sheriff asks after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

Not able to find the exact words to reply, Kurt just nods his head. Finn helps out by supplying a single simple word.

“Yes.”

The sheriff and his wife give each other glances. “That’s impossible,” he says. Kurt and Finn glance at each other.

“Why?” Kurt asks.

“Because,” the sheriff says. “Richard Anderson has been dead these last five years.” If Kurt was naturally pale before, he was white as a sheet after those words. The color even drained out of Finn’s face too. That was a dead ringer that something was seriously wrong. And if this man was dead, who in the world was Noah going to talk to? Furthermore, what had happened to Noah? Something must have if they hadn’t heard from him.

“Noah said he was going to contact us an hour after the last time he called. It’s been almost three,” Kurt says, still looking white as a sheet. He wasn’t sure what their next move was going to be.

The sheriff huffs. “I think you two boys need to stay away from Anderson and his motel. My wife and I looked out for Blaine while we could, but there is something not quite right about that boy. It’s almost as if he’s waging an internal war. It’s hard to pick up on if you don’t know what to look for. He’s very good at hiding it.”

His wife picks up for the first time in a long while. “When Blaine seems to be in control of himself, he’s really a charming young dapper man. But that’s a rarity these days. It’s why no one really socializes with him anymore. He doesn’t really leave the motel either. Except perhaps to pick up necessities.”

Kurt and Finn look at each other again, both thinking the same thing. They rise from the couch at the same time.

“Thank you for the coffee and the food,” Finn says.

“But we better take our leave. There are some errands we need to run,” Kurt adds, thinking up an excuse. The last thing they need is for the sheriff and his wife to try and stop them from what they are considering doing. That is not something they need right now.

Kurt knows that maybe it’s against their better judgment, but they haven’t heard from Noah, and they’ve just learned that the father in question isn’t even alive anymore. That’s sufficient evidence that something has gone down at that motel and even though the sheriff said to keep away, they know that they need to go check it out themselves. Perhaps with there being two of them, they might have better luck.

Finn played football in high school. Kurt was a cheerleader. If he has to, he can use gymnastics to bend his way out of tight spots. If something happens to Kurt, Finn can run away, fast. But neither of them are planning for anything bad to happen.

Whatever the matter, they need to get to that motel. They need answers. And the only way they’ll get them, is by going to the place that so far seems to be the center of the whole mystery. 

The Anderson Motel.

* * *

 

A hand strokes the hair on the head of a girl with wide, frightened eyes and a gaping mouth. The blood at the neck line where it was severed is still wet, surprisingly. Mostly because the dying inner tissues keep squelching out the last of it.

“I’m sorry my dear. But my son didn’t want you. So, you had to go.” The hand continues to stroke the bodiless head, a smile flattering its face. “He’s out now. For how long, I don’t know. He may never come back this time.”

Blaine is gone. His mind has been forcefully overtaken by the sinister soul of his father. A binding that has been building for countless years. A war that he has been trying to fight for all these years and even after death, his father doesn’t leave him.

He turns his attention from the head and gazes at the chair across the basement, the one turned away from him with the motionless figure seated in it. The split in the skull from the ax is still clearly recognizable, despite the wig to keep the head looking like a head. Richard couldn’t afford much at the time. He only had Blaine’s money to work with, and that was low because business was incredibly slow.

“I did bring you a playmate,” he says, glancing back at the head. He points at the body he’d dragged down the stairs. “He came with a very nice hat.” He places the hat he’d swiped from the investigator’s body atop his head. “Though he could have used a lesson in hairstyling.” His face crinkles as he looks at the mohawk on the man’s head.

Noah’s eyes are still open, his mouth slightly agape in a very similar fashion to Rachel’s head. With the life gone from him, he stares at the ceiling, but he doesn’t really see it. There is no vision in a lifeless man.

“It’s a pretty nice suit too though, don’t you think?” Richard says. He kneels on the floor and begins to remove the jacket. “I think I’d like to put it on.” No matter that the investigator was much taller than him and the suit will likely be sizes too big. He wants to wear it anyway.

Richard removes the entire suit, leaving Noah’s body in just a tank top and boxer shorts. Socks remain on his feet, his shoes now kicked to the side. With the clothes removed, it’s easier to see the bruising blooming from the back of his neck, where it snapped when he hit the floor. The cuts to his face wouldn’t have done a whole lot of damage. But the fall killed him.

Standing from the floor, Richard’s gaze remains on Noah’s body. “That bruise on his neck is such a pretty color,” he says, snickering. His head turns to look back at Rachel’s disembodied head. “I’ll be back my dear. Perhaps I’ll bring some wine and we can celebrate. 

Of course, there’s no response from Rachel’s head. Not a twitch. The ten to fifteen seconds of post-decapitation life are long gone. But none of this bothers Richard. These trophies are his play things. He blows a kiss at the head and snickers, turning and heading out of the basement. It is a joyous occasion when he has new play things.

* * *

 

Finn’s not sure how long they have been sitting there. Kurt’s hands are still gripping the steering wheel, despite having been parked in the lot of the motel for however long they’d been there. The bigger man is not counting the minutes and both of them seemed to be in a struggle for the strength to move forward.

The motel building is dark, but there are lights on in the house on the hill behind it. Kurt had been nervous the entire drive to the place. He had been debating whether or not they really should be doing this. But they had arrived. They were here now. If they stopped and turned back and just forgot about it, it would all be for naught. And they would never know what had happened to Rachel or Noah.

In the end, Kurt decides that he wants answers. He finally releases his grip on the steering wheel and gets out of the car. The vacancy on the motel sign is flickering in and out. There’s still a faulty wiring problem, but he tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore how the effect adds to the uneasiness he’s already feeling. His actions prompt Finn to move as well, and Kurt watches his stepbrother climb out of the car.

“Are we really going to do this?” Finn says.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Kurt responds. Finn knows he’s right. If they want to know the answers, they don’t have a choice.

“What if we see him? This Anderson guy?” Finn says, coming around the car to join his brother.

Kurt looks at him and furrows his brow in thought. “We’ll tell him we’re taking a road trip across country for a bonding adventure,” he says finally. “See if he’ll give us a room. We can’t let him know that we’re here investigating what happened to Rachel. That may have been the reason something happened to Noah, assuming it did.”

“How do we explain snooping?” Finn asks next.

“We’ll just say we were looking for signs of the owner or that the motel was still in business, especially because the sign is still on,” he comes up with quickly, gesturing to the motel sign at the edge of the lot. Finn nods in agreement.

Kurt begins to walk towards the motel. Finn wastes no time following him. Upon approaching, the pale man takes note that the door to one of the rooms is very slightly ajar. Someone left it open. Perhaps they had left the room in a hurry and hadn’t managed to properly close it. Kurt stops and turns to face Finn.

“Okay,” he says. “Here’s what we are going to do.” Finn looks at him attentively. “One of us is going to stay here and search that room for clues.” Finn follows his gaze to the door of the room. “The other is going to go up to the house on the pretense of looking for the owner, so we can check in.”

Finn swallows noticeably. Kurt knows both things make him uneasy. He feels exactly the same way, but it’s what has to be done. And he thinks maybe he should let Finn have the lesser of the two evils. He is the one steer heading this whole operation after all. He needs to be the bigger man this time and take the more daunting task.

“You investigate the room. I’ll go up to the house.”

Finn is immediately on the defensive. “What? I can’t let you do that! It’s my job as your big brother to look after you! You stay in the room and I’ll go up to the house.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Finn, first, I’m in charge of this mission. Second, I’m four months older than you. You stay in the room. It’s my turn to be the macho one for once.”

Finn has never seen Kurt so determined or set in anything and he knows that’s a really high bar. He always knows that Kurt’s right. He is actually the older one. A fact that Finn often forgets because Burt has always counted on him to look out for Kurt, ever since he married Finn’s mom when the two of them were in their junior year of high school. He knew one day he was going to have to let Kurt fly free. This was his chance.

“Fine, but if you’re gone too long, I’m coming in there after you,” he says.

“Fair enough,” Kurt responds. He waits a beat and then throws his arms around Finn in a hug so incredibly tight. He’s never been so terrified of parting with his brother. Over the years, they came to a point where they stopped thinking of each other as stepbrothers and started thinking of each other as just brothers. Finn knows how much he means to Kurt, and despite all the heads and highwater the two have gone through before and after the union of their parents, Kurt means a lot to him too. They’re family, now and forever.

“I love you Kurt,” Finn says tearfully, as the two of them finally part.

“I love you too Finn,” Kurt replies in kind. It isn’t something the two of them often say physically to each other. The whole situation is a little on the awkward side, mostly because Kurt’s a gay man and he was once in love with Finn, but that’s a story long overtold and no longer rings true. Kurt does love Finn still, but now much more like the brother he is and the family they’ve become.

With a deep breath, Kurt turns away from Finn and starts to walk towards the house. He can feel the other’s eyes on him, watching him go, but he doesn’t turn around, not to look back, and not when he hears Finn pushing open the door of the room behind him. Now he needs to focus, on his own task, not on what Finn’s doing.

Kurt can’t think about anything but what his own intentions are. He needs to keep his mind clear, so he can focus, and come out of this alive. He doesn’t know what it is that makes him so afraid that his life may be at stake, but he thinks the fact that this Blaine Anderson talks about his father like he’s still alive when he’s been dead for five years may have something to do with it.

He realizes his breathing has increased and he stops in the middle of the steps to shut his eyes and collect himself. He focuses for a few moments on regulating the speed of his breathing. He needs to remain calm, keep a cool head, or else something could go terribly wrong, whether at the hands of some psycho or not.

Drawing a deep breath, he finds his place, thinking of yoga, and continues up the steps.

The house looming before him looks like something straight out of a horror movie. An Alfred Hitchcock film perhaps. Actually, this whole situation feels like something out of a Hitchcock film.

Kurt shakes those thoughts free of his mind and shakily reaches his hand out towards the door, as he approaches the house itself. His fingers curl around, preparing to knock when he decides better of it. No, no he has no intention of meeting the proprietor of this place head on. If he’s going to survive this, he has to find answers on his own.

Shakily, he wraps his hand around the doorknob. He’s surprised when it turns easily, and the door opens smoothly, surprised, but not ungrateful. Any sudden noise will draw attention to his movements and that is not something he wants.

Slipping in through the first door, he pauses to close it all the way without making any sound. The second door is slightly ajar for some reason and Kurt carefully pushes it open. He returns it to the exact ajar position, wanting nothing to appear out of place should the owner come this way any time soon.

Now in the house, he stops to take in his surroundings. The décor is tasteful but old fashioned rather than moderate. It seems surprising for a young man to be much more interested in this older pallet and layout, but whatever floats his boat. So far, Kurt has learned that Blaine Anderson is anything but ordinary.

His eyes flicker from the entryway to the stairs to the living room to the kitchen down the hall to his right. For some reason, that’s the direction he chooses to go.

Very quietly, Kurt begins to walk towards the kitchen. A sound meets his ears and narrowing his eyes calls attention to the fact that someone left the faucet on. He swallows, not sure he wants to know what it is they were washing off. Clearly, the drain isn’t stopped up or the kitchen would be overflowing with water by now. He continues on his way, walking as slowly as he can so as not to cause a sound when he steps. Old houses tend to creak between the floorboards, and even though there’s a rug spanning the hallway to the kitchen, Kurt doesn’t want to take any chances with making a sound.

He noted when he was walking up the hill, that one of the upstairs lights was on, so his best guess is that this Blaine guy is upstairs, at least for the time being. Kurt doesn’t know how long he will have until he returns to the lower level, or if he will return at all. Either way, he wants to be out of the house with whatever clues and evidence he can find in his hands before Blaine returns.

The pale man comes to a stop as he reaches the doorway of the kitchen. It looks relatively normal. A newspaper sits on the table beside a half empty cup of coffee, which is likely cold by now. There are a few dishes in the drainer, but they look as if they’ve been there a while, so they couldn’t be what Blaine had been washing. Aside from a glint of silver that still has a drop of water sliding down it. Kurt swallows.

It’s a knife.

He doesn’t really want to think about why the knife was being washed so he pushes the thought from his mind and continues to scan the kitchen.

That’s when his eyes land on another door. One that like the entryway door and the room door, has been left slightly ajar. Kurt focuses his attention on the door and begins to make his way over to it. He has a pretty good idea of what he will find behind the door. Likely the stairs down to the basement. A part of him is berating himself for being interested in going into the basement of this creepy house. But he keeps reminding himself that he’s looking for clues and the most likely places he’ll find them are in the basement, and the attic.

Kurt comes to another stop just outside the door. His hand shakes as he reaches for the knob and pulls it open further. The light has been left on downstairs and he can see it beaming up around the corner. It’s the basement alright.

Quickly glancing over his shoulder, the young man starts to descend the stairs, bracing himself for what he might find at the bottom. He knows it’s a cliché place to hide bodies and he’s trying to prepare himself for that.

He takes the steps down so slowly he feels like it’s hours before he steps off in the smaller of two rooms at the bottom. It’s this room that the light is coming from, and as far as he can tell, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary within it. A washer and dryer sit at the far end of the room and he can hear a slight hum. One of the machines is in use. Kurt doesn’t want to even think about what might be in that machine.

He can tell from the corner of his eye that the adjacent room is much dimmer. The light doesn’t filter into it as well and he wonders if there is a second light in the room. From his position, he can make out what seems to be a figure sitting in a chair with their back to him and he freezes. Is this Blaine guy perhaps down here in the basement just waiting for him and only has the light on upstairs to trick him?

But then he realizes the figure doesn’t seem to be moving at all. Narrowing his eyes, his attention glues itself to the back of the figure’s head and he creeps towards it.

Kurt forgets all attempts to remain completely quiet. “Hello?” he says in a small voice. “Hello, can you hear me?” There’s no response from the figure in the chair and Kurt wonders if maybe they couldn’t hear him. Maybe his voice is too low. Or maybe they were hard of hearing. So, he decides to do the next stupid thing.

Slowly, Kurt reaches a hand out towards the figure. He makes contact with the chair it’s sitting in and very slowly begins to turn it around.

Seconds later, Kurt lets out a yelp and stumbles backwards, tripping over something on the ground and falling to floor. Staring back at him from the chair is a skeleton with a large split in its skull and a wig on his head.

Breathing heavily, Kurt drops his gaze and is suddenly scrambling backwards. He’d tripped over the body of the investigator. Even though the room was quite dim, he could tell the man’s eyes were still open and staring up at nothing, all signs of life gone. His suit had been taken as well.

Kurt swallows hard and shakes his head frantically, muttering the word ‘no’ over and over again and then he freezes a second time. Directly across from him, sitting on a wooden table are wide and terrified eyes. Eyes that he would know anywhere no matter what expression they held.

It’s Rachel’s head.

Somehow, the realization has him moving again and he slowly stands. His focus is transfixed on what is left of his best friend. Her head. This psycho cut off her head and kept it as a trophy. What did he do with her body?

“Rachel…” Kurt whispers, the first word he’s really said since he entered the house, besides the yelp and the repetitive no and hello to the skeleton.

He has almost reached the table where her head is on display when a wild cry from behind him causes him to turn around. A man, who has dressed himself in Noah’s suit, is coming at him with a knife poised in his hand, high above his head and his mouth open like a screaming banshee.

Kurt throws his hands up in front of his face in terror, bracing for the attack, but it never comes. He slowly peers between his fingers to find this man now frozen in his step, the pant legs of the suit swallowing his feet and trailing on the floor. He no longer looks wild, but instead is staring at Kurt in awe, as though he is the most amazing thing he has ever seen.

Moments later, the man is beginning to lower his knife, blinking his eyes rapidly as though he has just been released from some sort of trance. “Wha…”

He’s cut off by something smashing into the back of his head. “Stay away from my brother!” Finn shouts. He’s holding a chair. 

Kurt only now realizes how heavily he’s breathing, as he watches the man crumple to the floor. The knife falls from his hand as he goes with the loss of consciousness.

“Nice work,” Kurt says, still breathing heavily. “But I don’t think he was going to hurt me. It was like, something miraculous dawned on him the moment he saw my face. Before you hit him, he was acting like he was coming out of something…like a trance…I don’t know Finn. It was really strange.”

Finn is breathing heavily too. “I don’t care. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”

“Rachel’s dead,” Kurt says after several beats of silence. “The investigator too. He killed them.” He’s standing in front of Rachel’s head, keeping it from Finn’s view. He doesn’t want him to see it. Tears are starting to meet the realization that his best friend is actually dead. She will never perform on Broadway again. And he will never hear her voice, whether singing spectacularly, or annoying the hell out of him. He won’t ever hear her again.

When Finn replies, his voice is shaky and choked. “Than I guess it’s time we call the police,” he says.

* * *

 

“Are you boys alright? What happened?!” Kurt and Finn look up from their seats as Burt and Carole rush into the station. Finn has his arm wrapped around Kurt’s shoulders and the young man has been sobbing quietly. His hair is mussed, his face is ashen looking, and his eyes are red and puffy. Finn’s eyes are not much better. They’ve both been crying.

“Rachel’s gone dad,” Kurt whispers. “She’s gone. She’s dead. Richard killed her.”

Burt gives him a puzzled look. “Wait, I thought Richard Anderson was dead,” he says.

Kurt and Finn both look at him in surprise. “You knew about that?” Finn asks. Burt nods.

“Everyone knows about Richard and Blaine Anderson, but what I don’t understand is why you boys think Richard killed Rachel when he’s been dead for five years.”

Kurt and Finn exchange glances. “It’s complicated,” Kurt says.

Burt opens his mouth to say something in response when one of the detectives enters the room and all four of the Hummel-Hudsons turn to look at the man. He straightens his tie and lets out a breath.

“Charges aren’t going to be pressed,” he says. Carole gives him a funny look.

“This crazy psycho commits multiple murders and you’re not going to press charges?” she says. Finn looks at his mother in surprise. He’s never heard such wording come out of her mouth before and he’s kind of taken aback by it.

“It’s complicated ma’am,” he says.

Carole narrows her eyes. “What’s complicated about a serial killer?” she asks.

Kurt and Finn exchange looks and both of them realize the same thing at the same time. Kurt looks back at the detective. “He’s pleading insanity, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” the detective says immediately. “But he doesn’t think he’s insane anymore.” He looks directly at Kurt. “And he credits you with that.” Kurt gives him a stunned look. “Something about you pulled him through and stopped Richard from hurting you.

“Blaine Anderson suffered a psychotic break years ago when his mother died. His father was a terribly abusive man, mostly emotionally and verbally. He always made Blaine feel like he wasn’t good enough. Matters escalated when Blaine came out to him. As a result, something snapped in Richard, and he took away the one tether or balance Blaine had in his life.”

“His mother,” Kurt whispers.

The detective nods and goes on. “With his mother dead, Richard knew that he could control Blaine. His abuse affected him psychologically and he started hearing his father talking to him even when he wasn’t there. Richard slowly began to cement himself inside Blaine’s head. It got to the point where Blaine was beginning to lose sight of who he was more and more, and his father began to take over. Blaine’s frustration eventually led to him taking his own father’s life by an ax to the head. But instead of solving the issue, it escalated, and his father’s very essence began to stir within him. Blaine’s persona broke into one of multiple personalities, himself on one side, his father on the other.”

He pauses there to let the Hudmel family process this information and perhaps say something if any of them so wished. The four members all glanced at each other, looking horrified at the very possibility of what had happened to Blaine. But none of them can find any words to speak, not knowing what’s best to say to something like that. So, the detective goes on.

“Blaine didn’t commit a single murder, except his father’s. Under his psychological issues, his father was in control of his body when the acts were committed. It was his father who killed your friend, Blaine says. He says he did it because she couldn’t coerce him into being straight.”

Kurt and Finn glance at each other and Kurt then looks at his father, never more grateful for how accepting of him he has always been. He vows to let his dad know how much he appreciates him more often. His first act, come home for a long and much needed vacation and just spend time with his parents.

The detective went on yet again. “Blaine says Richard killed the investigator because he knew too much. Blaine doesn’t remember anything that happened between murdering the investigator and finding himself in the basement with the knife raised, prepared to attack Kurt.”

Silence falls over all of them as they all take it in. Kurt thinks he knows exactly what happened then. Something so strong must have pulled at Blaine when he first saw Kurt, though Kurt can’t explain it, not what it is, or even why. But something was there.

Kurt would be lying if he said he doesn’t find Blaine attractive. Blaine is undoubtedly the most attractive man he has ever laid eyes on. And someone else might say that’s just Kurt’s body talking because he’s been single for so many months. His last relationship ended when his then boyfriend decided to return to his native England and Kurt wanted to stay in New York. He still doesn’t think they were exactly the right touch though.

But he knows this has nothing to do with his dry spell in the dating world. He hasn’t even been focusing on finding a new relationship, so he doesn’t even notice his body aching, not that it does.

“What stopped him?” Burt asks. It is the first any of them has spoken since the detective started his explanation.

The detective shakes his head. “Blaine isn’t quite sure. He says it just felt like his inner being was drawn to Kurt and just seeing him, brought him back to himself. Blaine believes that Richard is no longer plaguing his mind. Like whatever he felt for Kurt in that moment was so strong, it banished Richard for good. But he’s asked for professional help and doesn’t want to take chances.”

“You mean he wants to be on medication?” Kurt asks, feeling his stepmother grip and squeeze his hand. The detective nods.

“Yes. That, and therapy. He wants to see someone regularly. His story and the emotions and everything he says was so detailed, it was hard not to accept the insanity plea. Blaine considered in patient help, but he needs to keep an eye on the motel, at least until he can sell the property. So, he’s agreed to have medical professionals stay with him in the house. In the meantime, he’s putting the property on the market. He says if he’s going to make a recovery from all this, he needs a full fresh start, which means kicking the Anderson Motel to the curb.”

Finn gives him a stunned expression. “Wow, he’s really thought this through.”

Again, the detective nods.

“There’s one more thing,” he says.

“What’s that?” the four of them ask as one.

“He’s asked for permission to get to know Kurt, and the people in his life if that’s what he wants.”

The words take Kurt by surprise and he turns his head to stare at the door, behind which he knows Blaine is likely still sitting. He tries to picture him, looking exhausted perhaps, feeling like he’s made a mess of the world around him. But it’s not his fault. It could never be his fault. Kurt realizes that Blaine, the Blaine everyone thought they knew, was only half a man. He knows that many people are going to be skeptical of the story. He knows that Blaine is going to need someone in his corner. Why shouldn’t that someone be him?

“Yes,” he says finally. “Yes, I’d like that.

* * *

 

It’s been a year. A whole year since the incident. Rachel’s now been gone a year. It’s kind of hard to believe and Kurt wrestles to wrap his head around it as he stands looking down at her grave. Her full body was recovered afterward, once Blaine showed investigators what he’d done with it. They recovered the car she’d been driving as well. The money was still in it, but it was unsalvageable. As an apology, Blaine told the theater director that he would pay him back the money in time, starting with part of the profit he made when he sold the house and motel. It is partially his fault.

But Kurt doesn’t stand at the grave alone. A tan hand reaches down and places a bouquet of fresh flowers at the tombstone. Kurt places a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“There’s good news to celebrate too you know,” he says. His companion turns to look at him, curiosity filling his hazel eyes. “She’s not the only one who’s gone,” he finishes.

A curly head ducks down and Kurt hears a small intake of breath. “I keep fearing he’s going to come back,” he says. “Like he’s been lying all this time dormant, just waiting for that window of opportunity.”

Kurt takes his hand and uses it to raise the other’s head up by the chin. “Have you felt him at all?” There’s a shake of the head. “Do you know why that is?” Finally, there’s a smile.

“Because I’m happy,” he says. “Father couldn’t stand the sight of me being happy,” he explains. “And the last time I was, my mom was still alive.” He looks away, scanning the ground and sights of the graves surrounding them. “I don’t want to stop the medication or the therapy though. I don’t want to risk vulnerability.”

Kurt reaches for his hand and squeezes it. “You know I would never ask you to attempt to move forward without either of those things, right?” His question prompts a smile from the other.

“I know. Kurt you’ve been amazing to me, even after everything I put you through. I should feel so lucky,” he says.

It’s Kurt’s turn to smile and he gives his head a short shake. “It wasn’t your fault Blaine. I know that. Besides, everyone needs someone in their corner, even suspected psycho killers,” he tells him.

Blaine cringes and Kurt immediately apologizes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” he says.

“I know,” Blaine says. “I’m still really sorry about Rachel though. I wish I could’ve stopped it from happening.”

Both their eyes go back to the tombstone, its beautiful epitaph worded perfectly by Rachel’s fathers. A moment of silence passes between the two of them as they stare down in at it. Kurt knows that Blaine will never completely forgive himself for what happened to Rachel. But things are getting easier and Blaine is getting better every day. There hasn’t been a sign of Richard since that night.

“Come on,” Kurt finally says, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “I do believe we have reservations,” he adds.

Blaine smiles at him and grabs Kurt’s other hand to keep him from moving just yet. “I have something very important I want to say first Kurt,” he says.

Curiosity fills the other man as he inclines his head to one side, gazing back into the other’s hazel eyes. “What is it Blaine?”

The curly haired man takes a beat. He draws a deep breath. “This past year has become the happiest in my life, since even before I lost my mom,” he finally starts. Kurt listens, letting him take his time to get out whatever he is trying to get out. “And I’ve reached the moment where I can finally say this. So, what I have to say is…” He trails off and Kurt looks at him with anticipation. “…I love you Kurt,” Blaine finishes seconds later.

Kurt feels his breath hitch. No one has ever made him feel the way Blaine has in this past year. And maybe it’s crazy given where this man has come from but it’s true what they say. You can’t help who you fall in love with.

“I love you too Blaine,” and he seals the deal, with a kiss.


End file.
